


Lupus

by Lady_Anonymia



Category: TBoA (Webcomic)
Genre: Non-Graphic Violence, Reader is kind of stupid, Reader-Insert, Unspecifically Gendered Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 10:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Anonymia/pseuds/Lady_Anonymia
Summary: Never trust a wolf.





	Lupus

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder that TBoA is a concept made by the lovely Hyannah, who you can find on Tumblr here: http://hyannah.tumblr.com/  
> I, like, exclusively write fan-fiction for TBoA now. Cannot WAIT for this comic to come out. Y'all are gonna love it.

"There are dangers in those woods," they said. Friends, family, townspeople. "Wolves. Bears. Outcasts. Their homes lie between the trees, and they do not receive guests kindly."

They were right.

You are tired of staying in this town. While before the looming forest was a comforting, surrounding presence, you now feel suffocated. You want to leave.

Your mother fights you tooth and nail, her graying hair flying up around her face. For generations your family has stayed in this hidden alcove, she says. This is home.

But you don't _want_ home. You want to know what lies beyond the thick brush and branches, to live where the streets are unfamiliar. You want to see the ocean.

But you cannot seek help from anyone you know. In a town as small as yours, everyone knows everyone else, which means that everyone is well aware of your aspirations and your family’s disapproval. If you could find some outsider to take you with them, maybe you could escape, but the amount of strangers you've seen in this place you could count on one hand.

Your luck is about to turn.

It's late and you are sitting at the bar of the only pub in town when a man slides onto the stool next to you. He has wolfish features: sharp, alluring eyes and a dangerous grace. You tell him you haven’t seen him around here before.

"No one has," he says cryptically, and when his eyes turn on you they go from dismissive to...intrigued. Predatory. He appraises you; once critically, once appreciatively.

"Prying in the business of a newcomer...are you looking for a stranger?" He gives you a wry smile.

You blush and tell him you're not propositioning him. He leans in towards you, chuckling.

"Everyone needs a stranger for something, pet." He drums his fingers on the table slowly, rhythmically. "What can I do for you?"

You tell him, quietly to avoid keen ears, that you are trying to leave town and need a guide through the forest to the safety of the town on the other side. You may be adventurous, but you are not an idiot; if you attempt to traverse those woods by yourself, you may not make it out alive.

"Not going to waltz out along the main road? Smart." He nods thoughtfully. "I believe I can help you."

You work out the details of your escape. In a day's time, you will meet him at the mouth of the road leading out of town. Under the cover of night, he will take you through the forest to the next town over. After that, he’ll take his leave of you and you’ll finally be on your own. You bring up the topic of payment, but he brushes you off genially, saying something about “charity for the unfortunate.”

As you are leaving, you start to ask what his name is, but he puts a finger to his lips. His lupine eyes shine impishly before he glides off into the night without another word.

As you walk back home, tingling with anticipation, you think on the man. The wolf. Your mother told you to be wary of strangers when you were young, but you are grown now, and capable. You can protect yourself, if need be.

You will find out soon that "capable" is not enough.

The next night, the wolf is waiting for you outside of the forest, as promised. You are prepared physically, but mentally you still feel yourself grasping at straws. You cannot differentiate between the nervous and excited fluttering in your chest.

Around your town there is a long fence. It’d be easy enough for you to climb over, but it mostly serves as a barrier for the animals and a warning for the humans.

“After you,” he says, eyeing you intently.

You throw your pack over before scrabbling up the fence, your feet unable to find purchase on the slippery wood. You make it to the other side unscathed but with a significant lack of coordination, and the sound of your boots hitting the damp ground is magnified by your paranoia.

The man follows behind you, vaulting the barrier as if he’d done it a thousand times and landing quietly beside you.

“Which way now...?,” he murmurs. You inquire, somewhat panicked, if he shouldn’t know the answer the question. He shushes you.

“Hold on, pet,” he laughs quietly. “I’m just taking a moment to think.”

It feels like more than a moment. He stands near-motionless, the only movement coming from the leaves rustling in the chill night breeze and your own anxious fidgeting.

With a slight tilt of his head, he begins to walk through a pair of thin trees, and you are suddenly unsure if you should follow.

“Are you planning on staying here?” He throws the question behind him, beckoning to you.

You follow through the trees. The moon casts a haunting glow on your skin and your companion looks deathly pale in its rays. You find yourself wanting to touch him, just to see if he’s as corpse-cold as he looks.

You walk until you reach a small clearing and the man once again motions for you to stop walking. You watch his eyes as he scans the trees that surround the small area, how they widen almost imperceptibly as they train on one spot.

“Wolves,” he hisses, grabbing your hand. It is cold, and rougher than you expected. “This way.”

Your route is circuitous. You are pulled along roughly, deeper and deeper into the woods, until the blanket of branches above you grows too thick and you can no longer see the man pulling you along. Cloaked in darkness, he abruptly lets go of your hand, nearly sending you tumbling, and you feel as though you’ve been stranded at the center of a dark lake.

You can still hear the snapping of twigs moving around you, so you know he must be there, but you cannot track him exactly as he circles you, unseen and unknown. You whisper to him but there is no response, and you fear to raise your voice and alert the wolves he’s seen. Scared and frustrated, you put your hands out in front of you and shuffle forwards slowly, hoping not to dip your foot into some burrow or trip over some root.

You don’t do either as you shuffle along, but you will not escape misfortune: your bag snags on what must be a stray branch behind you, and your body jerks forward and slips free of the strap. A pair of faintly silhouetted hands grab you before you hit the group, before pulling you against the body they’re attached to and holding your wrists easily.

“Sh, pet,” the wolf says, his breath warm in your ear. “I’m going to help you escape.” Without warning, he grabs your head roughly, exposing your throat. You barely have time to scream before you see the flash of silver.

Your short cries wither into ugly, wet gargling. Now you’re truly in the black lake, drowning and all. The sharp smell of blood stings your nose, and the hole in your throat stretches painfully as he pushes on your jaw.

"What beautiful red lips you have," he hums, and presses his mouth along the open wound. The wet pressure of his tongue burns along its jagged edges. “Come with me.”

He gives you no choice, carrying you only a short distance before you’re back in the same clearing you fled from just moments ago. He cradles you like a child, soothing you softly when your gasping becomes insistent. Here, there is plenty of light, and your vision swims with the image of his richly crimson-stained mouth shining in a carnivorous grin.

Your blood leaves warm, tacky trails where it streams out of your neck. You feel so weak, and tired, and cannot protest as he sets you down gently. He marks you: kissing your forehead, kissing your lips, painting symbols on your cheeks with a finger as if you are the sacrifice in some pagan ritual. His sleeves, his face, his hands are all stained with your blood.

He looks up at the moon, throws his head back, and howls. It’s a sound that fills you with a primal fear, but the answering cry of the wolf packs that call these woods home is even more terrifying. The wolf closes his eyes as his brothers and sisters sing in a cacophonous choir.

He holds your face in his hands briefly, but does not stay to watch what will no doubt be a gory spectacle.

When you close your eyes, you see teeth.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated, and (as always) thank you for reading! If you wanna ask me any questions about this work, my other TBoA works, or TBoA in general, feel free!


End file.
